Wolves Mate For Life
by Robert Seagrave
Summary: Since leaving the Shinsengumi, Saito Hajime has changed his nameand become a police officer in Tokyo. After one failed marriage,he thought, and frankly didn't care, that he'd be alone for hisentire life. But maybe a chance meeting will change all that.


Wolves Mate For Life  
By Robert Seagrave

Liar. Hajime Saito's deep-set eyes narrowed, his golden stare searing into the old man. The former leader of the Shinsengumi knelt on the tatami mat, unmoving as he listened to his host's denial.

Motoki Ueda was a squat man in his late fifties, with thinning hair and teeth. His yukata, although spotless, appeared equally threadbare. Ueda flashed his semi-toothless smile at the police officer in an attempt at appearing sincere. It was a complete failure. With a note of earnest that was the hallmark of insincerity, Ueda assured, "Mr. Fujita, although I have heard of Kaishou Hosokawa, I've never had any contact with him, personal or otherwise."

Saito did not shift his expression, his golden eyes burning deeper into Ueda's. The Wolf of Mibu thought he could hear the sweat running down the old man's back.

Pricking his keen ears, Saito detected another sound from behind the shoji screen. Quiet footsteps brushed across the wooden floor, and stopped. His left hand shifted in an almost undetectable movement towards his blade, which was resting against the wall only two feet from his grasp. Imperceptibly, as he sipped his tea, the policeman monitored the door's wooden frame to try to spot a silhouette through the washi paper. However, his efforts were fruitless; only sunlight could be detected through the translucent barrier.

Once again, Saito scanned the room's meager contents—the wooden tea chest in the far corner, the calligraphy hanging on the wall to his left, and the dark lacquer tea table where he and Ueda now sat. With an inward nod, Saito affirmed that there were no places within the room where threats could be concealed. Outside the room, however, was another matter entirely. Keeping his attention focused on the door, Saito waited.

As he returned half of his attention back to Ueda, the old man's expression shifted, his dark eyes glinting with self-assurance as he purred, "I'm sorry I can't help you, Mr. Fujita, or should I say Hajime Saito, former Leader of the Third Squad of the Shinsengumi?"

Hmm. Saito thought. Apparently the old man knows that I've been investigating him, and he's collected information about my true identity.

Ueda poked his greying temple with a crooked finger and laughed, "These eyes can spot a fellow samurai! It's obvious by the way that you carry your sword."

What's obvious is that you paid too much for that information, Saito snorted inwardly and sipped his tea, his eyes never leaving the old man's face, his ears never leaving the shoji screen. Impatience began to bore into the base of Saito's skull. He fought the urge to draw his sword and order the old man to cooperate. But, that wasn't the way things were done at the Tokyo Police Department. One had to uphold justice with different tactics—during the daylight hours.

The old man's eyes gleamed like a cat that cornered its prey as he said, "When the Boshin War ended and the Meiji rose to power, we samurai were exiled, and we sank to a level far below our station in life, and had to suffer unimaginable disgrace. I know that it has been an ongoing struggle for me, and I know that it must be the same for you, Hajime Saito. The life to which you were accustomed can hardly be supported on a policeman's paltry salary. Let me offer you a small gift to help ease your difficulties. How about a thousand?"

Saito's left hand twitched. He burned to ram the old man through with his blade. "No." He said emphatically.

"Two thousand?"

The former samurai's hand shifted towards his sword.

The old man's eyes reflected anxiety, but he persisted, "Five thousand!"

Gritting his teeth, Saito seethed, "I am not interested in your money! Justice cannot be bought or sold! Although you claim to be a former samurai, you have obviously forgotten that truth!" He began to rise from the tatami mat and announced, "I've heard enough."

Fear was obvious in the old man's face as he realized the extent of his error. He implored, "Mr. Fujita, I'm afraid I've insulted you. Please accept my hospitality as a way of asking for your forgiveness." He shouted sharply towards the door, "Tokio!"

The shoji screen shifted open and a woman entered. She was not old, not young, not beautiful, not ugly. She carried a tray with two steaming ceramic bowls.

Ueda motioned towards the hot food and urged, "Please, Mr. Fujita. Stay and have lunch. With a full stomach, my old mind is clearer, more able to answer your questions."

Squelching his impatience like the butt of a cigarette, Saito knelt once again at the table.

The woman served them silently, her calloused hands placing the bowls on the table. The old man took one look at the meal and shouted, "What's this? Plain soba! What were you thinking, woman?"

She looked at Ueda coolly and said smoothly, "I'm sorry, Uncle. When you mentioned that you were having a guest today, I assumed that it was Mr. Hosokawa."

The old man choked on his own spittle and winced as she trapped him in his lie. Saito smiled ruthlessly as he watched the old man squirm and writhe.

Ueda's anger towards the woman escalated in an attempt to defect the attention from his own indiscretion. He spewed, "I can't serve something like this to our guest! I'll never understand how, or if, your mind works, woman! And, don't you give me that look! I swear, woman, soon you'll be serving plain soba on the street!"

Saito interjected, "I prefer plain soba." As he raised his chopsticks, the old man's tirade extinguished. Hajime Saito admitted that it wasn't his style to be merciful, but the woman did him a big favour.

She looked at the ex-Shinsengumi leader, her face reflecting gratitude and something that made the hair on the back of his neck bristle.

"Go on, now!" The old man waved her away. She rose to her full yet unimpressive height and slowly strode out of the room.

Saito's ears pricked up once again as he realized, Those footsteps. She was the one listening behind the door.

As the old man poured him a cup of tea, he muttered, "Women. They're not worth the trouble."

"That is the first sensible thing you've said during this visit." Saito's golden eyes narrowed ruthlessly as he cornered his prey. Bearing his teeth in a smile, he said, "And now that your head is clearer, Mr. Ueda, tell me everything you know about Kaishou Hosokawa."

Behind the desk in the farthest corner of the police station, the light of Saito's cigarette burned red against the darkness. Inhaling deeply, he analyzed the details of the case. He had been placed on a special assignment to find the source of a weapons smuggling ring through Tokyo. After weeks of intense investigation, Saito deducted that the ringleader was Kaishou Hosokawa. His work also led him to Motoki Ueda as the go-between. But, judging by the run-down nature of Ueda's living quarters and the worn look of his clothes, the old man had not been part of the operation for long.

As he thought of Ueda, Saito's lips curled in a contemptuous snarl. Everything that old man told me was completely useless. Obviously, he was feeding me fabricated information to make me lose the scent of the trail. However, his poorly concocted lies have made me even more convinced of his involvement.

Examining the information one more time, he took one more long drag on his cigarette. Everyone else had long since gone home, but he decided to remain instead of returning to his cramped apartment. Blue grey smoke clung to him as the image of his current habitat drifted to his mind—a rented room in a ryokan with only a tatami mat, one low table and a single futon. The only decoration was a standard calligraphy wall-hanging which read, "We wish you happiness."

Saito sneered inwardly whenever he thought of those empty words. Recently he came to Tokyo and left behind the place he had called home for the past few years. He left that place and that woman. The irony burning into his heart, he noted that wolves mated for life, but the Wolf of Mibu's only relationship had recently ended in a paperless divorce.

Exhaling blue smoke into the night air, he tried to expel the images of his former wife out of his mind. Despite himself, he remembered; a thousand memories slicing into his soul. He had met her in Tonami two years previously. In the wisps of blue-grey smoke the images swirled—the moonless night, the street thugs threatening her, his own foolish involvement, the reverence in her green eyes when she thanked him. Her adoration was like nothing he had ever experienced before, especially not from a beautiful woman. For the following year, she pursued him relentlessly, using all of her charm to ensnare him. Saito gritted his teeth as he thought of how much he had loved her.

But I got over her quickly when she tried to kill me.

The woman was part of an elaborate plan to gain revenge on the former leader of the Third Squad of the Shinsengumi. During the revolution, Hajime Saito killed a man called Fumiya Itou in battle.

I don't remember anything about him.

However, Itou's older brother insisted that Saito had ended the young man's life. So, Riku Itou enlisted the help of his beautiful cousin to get close to the former samurai, by whatever means necessary. She was instructed to wait for the right time to strike the final blow.

Breathing another stream of blue-grey smoke, Saito remembered that fateful night, when she had opened the gates and allowed his enemies to flood in as he slept. Although he was outnumbered, his intended assassins were no match for his Gatotsu sword technique.

The shock of almost being murdered in his bed was nothing compared to the frozen look in her glittering green eyes, and the contemptuous smile twisting her beautiful mouth as she hissed, "Love you? Who could ever love a man like you?"

Her empty, heartless laughter echoed throughout his mind, tearing the scab off his heart, bleeding agony into his soul. Squelching his cigarette, he squashed the images, but his emotions swirled like smoke around the thoughts. Using a woman to exploit a man's weakness is one of the most common tricks in existence, yet I still fell for it. But, I vow that it will not happen again. Just as Ueda said earlier today, women aren't worth the trouble.

As he lit another cigarette, a thought ignited. Hmm. The woman. I wonder if she knows any useful information. The way to expose this chain of command is to break its weakest link. This woman, Tokio, just may be that link. Moonlight gleamed off of the Wolf of Mibu's canines as he devised his latest strategy.

The streets of Tokyo were bustling with mid-day activity as horses and carts traveled up and down the busy roadways, almost unable to avoid the people that scrambled to-and-fro from shop to shop. Women in everyday yukata walked with children in tow down to the local fish market by the harbour. Old men sat around in packs to chat about their pasts; young men gambled in groups to talk about their futures.

Among them, Saito walked. He did not speak. He did not smile. Through the thick blue grey haze that clouded his mind, he saw nothing, and struggled to feel nothing.

Eventually, his vision cleared as he reached his destination. As he stepped inside the small soba restaurant, his golden eyes scanned the room and found his target. She was taking another customer's order. Briefly she looked up and spotted him, her expression a mixture of surprise and something that made him almost turn and walk away.

Rooting himself in his mission, he stationed himself at the booth that was furthest from the window.

Within moments, she approached him and played the part of a good hostess, "Welcome, Sir. May I take your order?" His keen eyes scanned her closely. She was short and small, and her black hair was pulled back into a tight braid which made her face look stark and barren. Her body was shapeless, hidden in the folds of a very clean, very worn yukata. Her hands were harsh and calloused from long hours of physical labour. Only one feature stood out—the golden eyes that reflected his image.

Avoiding her direct gaze, he continued with his plan. Placing his hand on his chin, he wondered aloud, "Hmm, you seem quite familiar to me. Did we meet by any chance yesterday at the home of Mr. Ueda?"

"Yes, we did. I'm Tokio, and you're Mr. Fujita if I recall correctly."

"Correct." His eyes narrowed as he cornered his prey. "Tokio, won't you join me?"

Her face reflected excitement mixed with uncertainty as she said, "Oh, I-I don't know if I…"

The old man who obviously ran the place waved to her from where he sat, "That's all right, Tokio. It's pretty quiet at the moment, so Misako can cover for you."

With a grateful nod towards her employer, she sat opposite Saito, climbing happily into his trap. Slurping his soba, the policeman waited. He asked her casual questions about her past, and she was quite forthcoming. "After the revolution ended, I was exiled. Eventually, Uncle took me in as a favour to my late father." The memory evoked a far-away expression in her eyes as she relayed, "Before the rise of the Meiji, my father was an inspector, and Uncle was a samurai." The look in her eyes became tinged with melancholy, "But, that was a long time ago."

He decided to commence his first line of attack. He pinned her with his gaze and asked, "Tokio, how well does your uncle know Kaishou Hosokawa? Are they in contact often?"

Leaning forward, her golden eyes gleaming, she returned, "How well do the police know Mr. Hosokawa? Are they in contact often?"

His deep-set eyes narrowed as he warned, "You should answer my question."

"You should answer my question." She retorted.

"Foolish woman, you shouldn't make light of such a serious matter."

"'Serious,'" she moved in closer to him and said lowly, "or 'illegal'?"

He began to smile, light gleaming off of his canines.

She moved closer to him, and said earnestly, "For example, drug trafficking?"

His smile faded. "No." He said flatly.

"Theft?"

"No."

"Prostitution?"

"No."

"Gambling?"

"No."

She stopped and seemed to grasp for other possibilities. "Political assassinations?"

"No."

The disappointment was obvious in her face as she seemed to run out of ideas.

Eating the last of his soba, he thought, She certainly is persistent. I thought I was the one leading this investigation. Well, it's obvious that she knows nothing of the operation. Or else, she is the best liar I've ever encountered. I doubt it, however, because her face is as easy to read as a child's novel.

He raised his gaze from his bowl and met hers. Tokio's golden eyes burned with a smouldering sensuality that threatened to ignite something deep inside of him. Saito tried desperately not to choke on the last of his lunch. Fighting to control his shock, he said coolly, "Do you find something fascinating about the way I eat soba?"

"Yes." Her face flushed as she caught her indiscretion and blurted, "I mean, no. I-I have to get back to work. Please excuse me, Mr. Fujita."

With that, Saito left. As he walked down the street, he gritted his teeth and admonished himself, Don't you dare look back.

Tokyo pulsed with festival life as the crowd flowed to and from the food stalls that exhaled the scents of sizzling octopus balls, yakitori, yam noodles and whole grilled fish. Siblings huddled together as they caught fish with a paper net; friends pounded each other on the back as they tested their strength in the fighting ring; fathers stroked their children's heads as their progeny tested their skill at the archery game; lovers embraced as they watched the fireworks animate the night sky. Bright red lanterns bobbed to the beat of the taiko drums that throbbed through the throngs of laughing, singing, crying, shouting people.

Amongst the merriment, a lone figure wandered, without looking, without speaking, without feeling. Eventually, the police officer stopped and sat on some stone steps, lit his cigarette and watched the trail of blue grey smoke disappear into the empty night sky.

His keen ears picked up the conversation between two police officers who also patrolled the revelry. As they passed by, one said lowly to the other, "Hey, there's that Fujita guy."

"He joined the department last winter, but I've never seen him talk to anybody or even crack a smile."

"Yeah, he's a real tight-ass."

"Well, if he wants to be that way, that's fine with me."

Saito bit down on the butt of his cigarette as they left. Definitions of his personality floated through the blue-grey mist that clung to his mind, "Ruthless. Heartless. Soulless." Those were her words, when she explained why no one could love a person like him. Bitterness ate deeper into his soul as he proclaimed, I can't be bothered with human relationships. No one can be trusted in this Meiji era. No one. So, I'll be content to live with my own ruthless, heartless company.

He snapped out of his reverie as his ears detected someone approaching from behind. Undetectably, his hand shifted to the hilt of his sword. A voice from behind deflected the threat, "Good evening, Mr. Fujita." His gaze rested on a skewer of fish balls three inches from his face. His vision followed the stick to the hand that held it, up the sleeve of a golden silk kimono to a pair of golden eyes that matched.

"Tokio?" The change was dramatic, but it was undoubtedly the same woman. Her hair was up in a Shimada Mage hair style, held with silver combs and streams of pink ribbon that softly framed her face. Cherry blossoms danced across the golden kimono which revealed that her figure was not shapeless. When his eyes met hers, the warmth of her smile broke through the blue grey haze and spread throughout his entire being.

The offering shifted closer to him as she said, "These are for you."

The beautiful woman offering gifts ignited his instincts and made the hair on the back of his neck bristle. Turning his head away, he said with a steely determination, "No, thank you." He stared at the smoke rising from his cigarette up into the empty sky.

She stood silently beside him, and he thought he could hear her searching for a way to pry open his heart. Gritting his teeth, he sealed it even more firmly shut.

Finally, she said lightly, "I hope that you wouldn't consider these fish balls a bribe."

Despite himself, the thought amused him. Her smile once again entered his vision.

Her expression sobered and she said, "When I saw you here, I thought that you might be hungry, so I brought these to you. You work so hard to protect the people of Tokyo. I just wanted to do something for you in return."

Admittedly, he was hungry. He reached out and took the token, rationalizing that accepting the gift was the fastest way to be rid of her. "Thank you."

Delight danced in her eyes. "Thank you, Mr. Fujita. Good night!" With a flutter of pink and gold, she turned and disappeared into the crowd.

As he ate the fish balls, he thought, At least this wasn't a cheap tactic to open a conversation.

Her words echoed in his mind, "You work hard to protect the people of Tokyo. I just wanted to do something for you in return." He thought, It's a nice story, but I wonder what her true motive was for approaching me. Ueda probably heard of our conversation in the soba restaurant and ordered her to get close to me.

He snorted, what Ueda doesn't know is that only a fool would fall for this trick twice.

However, as he wandered through the crowd once more, his eyes were drawn to flutters of pink and gold.

As the night deepened, the streets of Tokyo prepared for rest as the crowd thinned and families returned home.

Hajime Saito walked the dying streets, a lone dark figure scanning the shadows with his piercing golden eyes. When he rounded a corner, he spotted a golden silk kimono against the darkness, and warmth spread through him as he recognized her.

When he spied the second figure, revulsion shot through his stomach as a man with blood red hair stepped into her path. Red hair—just like him. However the Battousai's cross-shaped scar on the left cheek was absent. A deeper loathing pulsed through him as he recognized that the man was Kaishou Hosokawa, the leader of the weapons smuggling operation. Shifting his hand to the hilt of his sword, he crept up silently behind the pair, his golden eyes glowing in the shadows.

Hosokawa, unlike the Battousai, had an impressive stature, with an equally unimpressive face. His deep-set dark eyes glinted as he leered at the woman and cooed with his Kansai Ben drawl, "You've been holdin' out on me, Tokio. I thought ya were justa bowl of plain soba, but ya are actu'ly a succulent piece of fatty tuna. Ya look so delicious I could just eat ya up right now."

Her mouth twisted with amusement, horror and revulsion as she said flatly, "I'm afraid, Mr. Hosokawa, that I'm not to your taste."

She tried to step past him, but he blocked her path and demanded, "Hey, don't leave when I'm talkin' t' ya!"

Moonlight glinted off of Saito's teeth as he stepped forward and greeted, "Good evening, Tokio." His eyes narrowed into golden slits as he glared at the other man.

"Mr. Fujita!" Tokio's face flooded with relief.

He stepped up to the pair, and despite Hosokawa's height, Saito still towered over him. The policeman stated, "It's too late for a woman to be walking through the city streets alone. I'll escort you home." Although he warned himself against spending time alone with her again, he couldn't allow her to be fed upon by dogs like Hosokawa.

Her face reflected gratitude and something more as she said, "Thank you, Mr. Fujita."

She stepped past Hosokawa without a glance or a nod, and the red-haired man didn't look amused at all by her lack of subtlety.

However, Saito found it quite amusing.

The pair walked through the quiet dark streets in silence. Instinctively, Saito scanned the shadows for threats. His attention was drawn back to her when she spoke, "Uncle mentioned that during the revolution, you were Hajime Saito, leader of the Third Squad of the Shinsengumi."

"That is correct."

"The Shinsengumi fought bravely to support the shogunate, but the Tokugawa era still ended." She stared up into the clear night sky and said quietly, "In this Meiji era, it's so difficult to live by one's principles."

Saito surmised that she was on the verge of confessing her plot to seduce him. He smirked in disgust as he proclaimed, "It is not difficult for those who remember their reason for being."

As they approached the gates to her residence, she asked, "And what is your reason for being, Hajime Saito?"

His eyes glowed golden in the dark as he said lowly, "Justice. The heart of the Shinsengumi, Aku Soku Zan—Slay Evil Immediately. That is the principal truth of my being, and I will follow it until I die."

The sensuality in her eyes seared into him unbearably, yet he could not tear himself away from her golden gaze. "Thank you for seeing me home." She freed a butterfly comb from her hair and held it out to him. "A dear friend gave this to me, but I want you to have it."

With a will of its own, his left hand reached out and accepted the gift.

Her eyes reflected his image, she smiled once more, and as the warmth spread through his entire being, he almost believed that the dream was reality.

She wished him goodnight, and disappeared inside, a flutter of pink and gold.

Saito examined the jewelled hairpiece. The silver comb was set with semi-precious golden and blue stones, and was worth quite a bit of money, but instead of selling it she had worked her hands to the bone and kept it. Obviously it was worth a lot to her, and yet she gave it to him. A golden haze filled his mind as he remembered the way she looked at him in the soba restaurant, her smile as she offered him the fish balls and the smouldering sensuality in her eyes when he accepted the comb. He turned the gift in his palm, moonlight glinting off the butterfly's wings and thought, Perhaps…

"Who could ever love a man like you?" The woman's taunting laughter tore into him, joined by a second female voice.

Disgusted, ashamed, he tossed the comb away.

As he walked from the residence, he decided that his sojourn in Tokyo was to come to an end. The next morning, he would apply for a transfer to another city, perhaps Osaka. And when the time was right, he'd move again. Gripping his sword, he declared inwardly, It doesn't matter where I am; I only need Aku Soku Zan to live as a Shinsengumi of the Meiji Era. Justice is my life and my blade is my companion. I don't need anything more.

The Wolf of Mibu was on the edge of stepping back into the shadows, but his instincts made the hair on the back of his neck bristle. He turned to see Hosokawa and his men enter Ueda's home.

They're meeting at this time of night? Saito's teeth gleamed in the moonlight as he thought; This may be a perfect opportunity to catch them in the midst of their operation. Perhaps this journey hasn't been fruitless, after all.

Silently, mercilessly, Saito crept through the courtyard to the single alit room and stationed himself behind the shoji screen.

Tokio's voice rose in outrage, "How could you, Uncle? How could you sell me to him?"

Shocked and disgusted, the fire of justice ignited in the ex-leader of the Shinsengumi's heart. He slid the screen open imperceptibly so he could sum up the situation.

Tokio stood in the center of the study, surrounded by Hosokawa and four of his minions. In the face of her distress, Ueda merely shrugged and stated casually, "Hosokawa offered to settle my debt in exchange for you. Actually, you should be grateful that Hosokawa made this offer. You need to face reality, Tokio. You're a 28-year-old woman with no family. No one else wants you."

In the light of the single oil lamp her cheeks burned with crimson humiliation. Her pain bled into Saito's open wound.

Hosokawa swaggered forward and leered at her in a way that made Saito want to ram him through with his sword. The weasel-faced criminal took her chin in his fingers and made her look into his bright, beady eyes. With a smug grin, he said, "Don'tcha worry, Tokio. All ya hafta do is sit around and look pretty, 'specially fer yer next assignment."

Golden eyes narrowed with suspicion as she asked lowly, "What 'assignment'?"

"I need t' get some information, so I want ya t' get close t' that cop, Fujita. I want ya t' do whatever it takes to get as close as ya can. Ya get my meanin'?" He chortled lasciviously.

Saito's lips curled in a snarl.

Tokio jerked out of his grasp and growled, "You want me to get close to him, so that I can betray him? Never! To use a person's feelings like that—it's disgusting!"

Outside the screen, Saito stood transfixed. The smouldering sensuality in Tokio's eyes, the tokens and gifts, they were not a cheap feminine ruse to gain his interest—they reflected her genuine feelings. And even now, when faced with danger, she still refused to use him. The warmth spread throughout his entire being, blanching the bitterness in his soul as he thought, Tokio. you're a good woman. I didn't think a person like you even existed in this Meiji era.

Hosokawa did not seem as impressed by her outburst. He only sneered, "Whatsa matter, Tokio? I thought that it wouldn't be too much of a problem, since yer already in love with the guy."

The red weasel and his four cronies snickered. The laughter grew and overtook the room, tearing through Saito's skull. Even in the light of the single oil lamp, the Wolf of Mibu saw Tokio's face flush vermilion. Her gaze lowered, and her breathing became laboured to force back tears of humiliation. Saito curled his lips as the laughter cut him open and her hot tears burned into the wound. He gritted his teeth and snarled inwardly, Woman, are you so ashamed of your feelings for me?

"Who could ever love a man like you?" The burning shame urged him to go, but his sense of justice refused to allow him to leave her to Hosokawa and his dogs.

The cold steel laughter sliced deeper and deeper into his heart.

Tokio's voice was quiet but it carried above the din, "It's true. I do love him." Her eyes rose, and although tear-filled, her vision was clear and unwavering as she pinned Hosokawa with a challenging stare and declared, "In this Meiji era, he hasn't allowed himself to become corrupted by greed." She stood to her full height, and with her left hand over her heart she announced, "He's a man who still lives by his principles. He's strong and pure—someone I can believe in!" Pride shone in Tokio's face, defying their ridicule.

The laughter in the room, the torment in Saito's heart—ceased. The blue grey haze that clouded his mind and polluted his soul lifted. A new truth ignited inside of him. And that truth, his truth, had a woman's name. Within the warmth in her heart and the strength in her soul, a man like him had finally found home.

Tokio's voice was strong and pure as she stepped away from the dogs, "Hajime Saito is indomitable, sharp and ruthless—just like me!"

With a battle cry, a broom handle in the corner leapt into her hands. Eyes flashing ferally she wielded the makeshift bo, mercilessly striking the dumbfounded men. Her voice rose above their cries, "I am Tokio Takagi, former member of the Aizu Joshitai, protector of Princess Teruhime during the Siege of Aizuwakamatsu Castle, and I refuse to follow a pack of dogs like you!"

In the shadows, moonlight gleamed off of Saito's teeth. Although she was no expert, she had obviously had some training and even more courage to openly attack six men. Her shouts tearing through the room, her golden eyes flashing, her weapon cracking bone, men twice her size whimpering, Saito felt that the spectacle was more enjoyable than any of the other festivities he had witnessed that evening.

However, with a decisive strike, Hosokawa cracked Tokio's weapon in two and pushed her to the ground.

Saito bore his teeth and readied his blade.

Hosokawa demanded, "Knock it off, woman! It's time for ya t' understand one thing." His crooked smile shone triumphantly as he announced, "I own you!"

Golden eyes flashing, she brought out a key hidden in her belt and her lips curled in a contemptuous snarl as she said lowly, "Oh, really now?"

The key reflected in Hosokawa's terrified eyes. Enraged, he shouted, "What the hell?" The red weasel screeched, "Ueda! You stupid old fool! How could ya let 'er geta hold've the key t' our storage?"

Ueda rushed to the lacquer desk, his shaking hands fumbling with the lock, "She doesn't have it! I keep it right here!" The drawer flew open and the former samurai waved the key in his shaking fist, "See? It's here!"

Tokio smiled, the moonlight shining off of her canines as she said, "Of course it's there. This is a copy that I had made while you were out carousing with your new associates." Eyes narrowing into golden slits, she pinned Hosokawa with a triumphant stare and demanded, "Now who owns who?"

The veins popped out on Hosokawa's neck as he swore at her and shouted to his men, "Kill 'er!"

"Wait!" Ueda protested as he rushed between Hosokawa and Tokio.

Ueda stopped in mid-step, Hosokawa's blade shining red and silver through the old man's chest. Tokio's eyes dilated in horror and she screamed his name as she caught him before he crashed to the floor. But, the former samurai was already dead.

The ringleader smirked, "That's what you get, old man, fer stickin' yer nose in where it doesn't belong!"

Hosokawa's blade dripped onto Tokio's golden kimono, red droplets dancing with the pink cherry blossoms. Fury blazed in his beady eyes as he sneered, "And now, you bitch, it's yer turn." He swung his blade towards her neck, shouting, "Sayonara!"

"Kaishou Hosokawa, I will not allow a dog like you to harm Tokio!" Saito's blade crashed through the doors with a cry that pierced through the night.

Hosokawa screeched in terror as Saito's Gatotsu ended his career and his life.

Without their leader, the other four men scrambled to defend themselves. One rushed towards the ex-Shinsengumi with a swinging blade and a battle cry, but Saito's sword sent the assailant's blood spraying onto the shoji screen. The dying man collapsed onto the table, sending the single oil lamp crashing onto the floor. Flames licked the wooden floor and began to devour the washi paper.

The Wolf of Mibu danced through the blaze, delivering his final justice.

When it was done, Saito grasped Tokio by the hand and lead her out of the burning hell.

Safely outside the property's gates, Saito brought out a match and lit his cigarette. Leaning against the gatepost, he glanced sideways at the woman who only stood and watched the flames that danced on the thatched roof of her home. Emotions swirled around him like the blue grey smoke.

Forcing indifference into his demeanour, he took a draw on his cigarette and said casually, "It seems that you've lost everything."

A melancholy smile appeared on her face as she said pragmatically, "It wouldn't be the first time."

He reached into his pocket and produced the butterfly comb. "I think this is yours." He couldn't help himself from smiling as he looked at the gift, feeling eternally grateful that it had still been where he had foolishly disposed of it earlier.

She reached towards his offering, but instead of taking it, her hands closed his fingers over the gift, sending the warmth of her touch through the cotton police gloves. She said, "Mr. Fujita, I want you to keep this, so that you will remember me."

The statement caused the corners of his mouth to twist in an ironic grin. How could I ever forget you, my Tokio? His heart pounded as he took another drag on his cigarette and tried one more time to broach the issue that burned inside him. "It seems that you have no place to go," he reiterated. Slipping off his gloves, he dared to give her another sidelong glance.

Behind them, the final room in the home ignited. As she watched it burn, she said, "I guess not. But, I will find a way. This is nothing compared to the fall of the Tokugawa."

Clenching his cigarette between his teeth, he summoned his courage. He had faced uncountable death matches in the past, even with Battousai the Manslayer, but that was nothing compared to dealing with women. After blowing out a stream of smoke he stated plainly, "You can stay with me."

Surprise ignited her features. She turned to face him. He read many emotions in her expression—hope, caution, desire, uncertainty.

Biting down on the cigarette butt, he took one last drag and squelched it on the gatepost. He decided that as in battle, love also had a time for direct action. Facing her, he no longer fought to conceal his feelings. He stared at her with his deep-set golden eyes and said passionately, "Tokio, I want you to stay with me." Although he tried, he choked on the final word, which cried out in his heart, Forever.

She stared at him for a brief moment in disbelief, and then her cheeks burned with the realization. Bowing deeply she said, "I'd be honoured."

Before she finished, he rushed forward, raised her chin, and kissed her. The exchange was warm and intense, affectionate and erotic—so unlike anything he had experienced in the past. Within her embrace, he opened his heart completely, knowing that she would not pierce it with cold steel laughter.

In the darkness, the pair walked with his arm around her shoulders.

Once again, the hated voice echoed from his past, "Who could ever love a man like you?"

He looked at his Tokio, and thought, Wolves mate for life. The image of the first wife began to break up and blow away. Saito smirked as he thought, That woman was not a wolf.

The End


End file.
